Friendships That Define Us
by PenPatronus
Summary: Leonard McCoy is shocked when he bumps into a mysterious Vulcan who knows him better than he knows himself. Abrams-verse, friendship, drama, family.


**Summary: **Leonard McCoy is shocked when he bumps into a mysterious Vulcan who knows him better than he knows himself. Abrams-verse, friendship, drama, family.

**Friendships That Define Us  
**PenPatronus

I probably wouldn't have noticed the Vulcan if he hadn't pressed the palm of his hand to his heart and sat down, quickly, on the nearest bench. He's poised, dignified, expressionless, but his palm remains and his fingers shake. He's the oldest Vulcan I've ever seen and – this is no more than a first impression – the humblest. There's a unique shape to the wrinkles on his face. It almost looks like one or two of the tiny ones resulted from a smile.

Unlikely, I tell myself.

It's more than my physician's sixth sense that draws me towards him. There's something I can't define and don't try to. The doctor approach is what I'm falling back on, though. It's an easy opening line. "Excuse me, sir." I lower myself to one knee in front of the man and look up into his eyes with concern. "Are you… I'm a doctor, see, and I just wanted to see if you are –"

"Leonard," he whispers. His face remains expressionless but if my mother saw his eyes, she would say he looks like he's seen a ghost.

I know I've never met him and I don't think he was at the ceremony where the officers on the _Enterprise_ got commendations. I'm certain he wasn't one of the refugees I treated in sickbay. One of the reasons why I'm a damn good doctor is that I remember every detail about my patients. "Forgive me," I say with all of my Southern politeness, "but I don't think I know you."

For a second – less than one – I see one corner of his lips curl. I swear – I _swear_ I see it, but then it's gone. He reaches out and gently cups my cheeks in warm, calloused hands. "You knew me better than any other," he says. I notice the past tense (and the emotion). "I am glad to see you again, old friend."

Not knowing what else to do, I clear my throat and stand back up. I open my mouth to say – I don't know what – when something even more shocking happens. There's a layer of moisture in the Vulcan's eyes. A thin one, but it's there.

Tears?

Before I can comment, he blinks and they're gone.

"Bones?" Both of us look up to see Jim Kirk walking up to us. "I see you two have met?"

"Not formally," the old Vulcan says. He stands and greets Jim by squeezing his hand in both of his.

My eyebrow cocks so high that it's pulling on my retina. "You two know each other?"

Jim looks at the Vulcan and receives a nod. I get the feeling that I'm not in on some joke.

"Bones, this is Spock."

I laugh so hard that a little spit comes out. "Where did you get the Romulan ale, Jim, and why didn't you share?"

Jim chuckles. For a moment he's the brash kid I remember instead of the commander I now obey. I can't get used to how serious this "new" Jim can be now. It's like the new burden / blessing of captaining a starship has increased the gravity around him. Quickly, quietly, Jim tells me the details of how he met this Spock after the other one exiled him. I'm a healthy skeptic and not convinced that this time travel thing is real. Sounds like an elaborate prank, if you ask me. The Jim I knew a week ago would have concocted this. But the Jim standing before me now…

I decide to play along. I'm too tired to do anything but be amused. "Tell me, if you're an "old" friend," I say, making air quotes with my fingers, "what's my favorite drink?"

"Mint Julip." The tiny smile is back in the corner of the Vulcan's lips.

"What's my daughter's name?"

"Joanna."

Well – Jim could've told him that. I think harder, start asking for the names of my family members – even the cousins I don't think I've ever met. This man – this Vulcan – is now naming all of my favorite foods, books, songs, trees, seashells. He's reciting whole paragraphs from medical journals I've written (and one that's only in draft form on my desk). He even begins to describe a surgical procedure I apparently invented.

He's talking about events I've never mentioned to another living being, but I'm still shocked when he says my father's name.

"Your father, David. He was ill. He was in pain. You, even as the talented physician you are, Doctor, were unable to help him." Spock takes a step towards me and I wonder why I don't back away. His eyes grow sad and almost – I can't believe I'm even thinking this about a Vulcan – sympathetic. "You loved your father very much. You did not want him to suffer."

Silently I thank Spock for not revealing the details to Jim. He's my best friend – a brother – but there are some things I'm not ready to talk about yet. In fact I can't imagine ever trusting someone enough – being vulnerable enough with someone to tell them that I helped my father commit suicide.

I know that my face is white. Jim is grinning now, both amused and amazed. He puts a hand on my shoulder. "Believe me now?"

I shake my head, then nod, then shake my head again. I swallow over and over to get some moisture back in my dry throat. Finally, tripping over my tongue like a drunk, I blurt out, "I'm going to get _that_ close to that heartless, arrogant, green-blooded, pointy-eared _elf_?"

Kirk bellows a laugh into the inside of his elbow. And then – like the clouds parting around the sun – Spock briefly _grins_.

Well. Son of a gun.

Spock grows serious again. "Leonard, listen to me. Take care of them. Jim and Spock – your Jim and Spock. They need you. They need you more than you'll ever realize. This entire galaxy depends on the three of you." Spock takes my hand in his as he did with Jim. His fingers feel hollow, cold, but strong. They wrap around mine as if already familiar with the shape. Spock squeezes my hand and then he's walking away to disappear into the crowd.

Son of a gun.

**The End**


End file.
